


Straight As A Pole

by tiredtigress



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Drunken Shenanigans, Dry Humping, I Didn't Really Know I Needed Bi-Curious Asher In My Life But I Do, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredtigress/pseuds/tiredtigress
Summary: „I’m not repressed“, Asher snapped immediately. He was still begging for his brain to come online again, but he had no such luck.„Yeah?“, Connor teased him. Thatdamnsmirk. „Prove it.“xSet vaguely during Season 2.Oliver has just broken up with Connor, Asher tries to cheer him up, they get drunk together and Asher's brain is currently on vacation, slurping Piña Coladas somewhere on a beach far, far away.Probably a bad time for Connor to tease him about his huge interest in the..logisticsof gay sex.
Relationships: Asher Millstone/Connor Walsh
Kudos: 10





	Straight As A Pole

„You’re obsessed with gay sex.“

Ever since Connor told him that, Asher couldn’t get the words out of his head. 

It had just been one of his classmate’s witty remarks that usually came pretty close to being side blows, but he really couldn’t help himself.

Well, considering the fact that he had always thought of him as one-hundred-percent straight, into nothing else but good ol’ boobs and vaginas, a self-proclaimed _vagitarian_ , he really thought _a lot_ about them.

He was totally cool with every gay guy he knew, he got along with them well and absolutely didn’t get all the hate they were getting, still, I mean, in this day and age it should be as normal as it gets, right?  
Hell, some of his best friends - _do we really call them best friends now, Asher, or are they still only murder buddies and you’re just lonely_? - were gay and Asher didn’t get why society - _or his old college buddies, you know, before the whole murder buddies thing_ \- were always so put off by them. They were also into partying and mindless banging and sometimes into wrapping themselves up in complicated relationship-affairs, just with different people. It was totally fine. 

And, you know, if Connor was only into banging dudes, it just meant that there would be more ladies for him - especially if Connor had been banging _his lady’s dude_ , but well… that’s another story. 

When he’d found out that Connor was gay, his brain had just gone „oh, well, didn’t really see that coming“ and when he’d found out just _how many_ guys Connor had been banging, his brain had just made that whopping noise of adoration it also always did when his high school buddy Thomas Peterson had been upgraded his female body count - _a word he couldn’t quite use with his new buddies anymore, it just had an entirely different ring to it, now, with the whole murder buddies thing_ \- but also, if he was being boldly honest, he was pretty glad for the fact that Connor wasn’t into girls, because, come on, with _that face_??  
Asher was a pretty confident guy, but he was also aware that in terms of handsomeness, he didn’t stand a chance against the brunette. 

Wait, _what_? 

And, okay, there was another thing he absolutely hated back when he was still hanging out with his old high school classmates: Why can’t a dude tell another dude that he looked good - like, girls tell each other that they look hot all the time and _nobody_ suspects them of being a lesbian. 

He objectively _did think_ of some guys as handsome, even if he was sure that he would _never ever_ think of banging them and maybe, that’s another thing that heteronormativity, or the patriarchy - _or what else Michaela and Connor were always angry and complaining about_ \- had ruined for him. And both of them were pretty intelligent, much more intelligent than him and maybe they were right about that.

 _He was allowed to think of some guys as handsome, that didn’t mean that he was gay_. Period.

And yes, maybe he was a tiny little bit interested in the _logistics_ of gay sex, but his brain seemed to grasp onto anything these days that could distract him from the growing mess of disasters and murders happening around him these days and it didn’t mean _anything_.

See, being interested in murder documentaries, for example, didn’t automatically mean you were actually into murdering people, _thank you_ , and - _shit, he couldn’t even use his favorite comparison for that anymore, could he_??

Anyway, because Asher was a normal, heterosexual dude that happened to be friends - _or murder buddies, tied together for a lifetime of witty remarks that usually came pretty close to side blows and headaches_ \- with a gay dude that had just happened to get his heart broken by a fellow gay dude that also happened to be friends - _or slightly-less-murder-buddies-but-still-slightly-murder-buddies-even-if-the-guy-was-the-biggest-sweetheart-on-earth_ \- with him, it was the most normal thing to do for him to go out with the former gay dude to get his mind off the latter one. 

It was a normal thing to do, as buddies - _friendly reminder that „murder buddies“ still included the term „buddies“_ \- to have a drink one too many and help your fellow dude to get over the chick - or dude - that had just left him. 

He had tried to convince Connor into becoming his old playboy-self again, because damn, the boy kinda was a natural. Guys were literally _throwing_ themselves at him wherever he went, but tonight, the handsome young man had gone all the way down the whiny-self-deprecating-lane again, because, maybe, he _really_ had one drink too many tonight and that meant that any chances of Asher getting to play wingman tonight and getting him laid had been pretty much zero.

So, that explained why they were currently lying on their couch together on the opposite sides, their feet weirdly close together, both still wasted as hell and Asher’s dumb drunk mouth was making decisions without him again, embarrassing questions leaving his lips without him being able to think them through and stop them. 

Nevertheless, Connor seemed to be pretty far gone, too. Currently he was giggling at something Asher had said, even if it wasn’t meant to be funny at all.

And he had reminded him that he still thought that Asher was _obsessed with gay sex_. 

„I’m not, I’m simply interested! Can’t a guy be.. interested in stuff, even if it’s not something he’s into?“, Asher drunkenly tried to explain, but the other boy wouldn’t let him.

„The fact“, Connor pointed out, „that you’re interested in it implied that you’ve thought about it. And if you at least _thought about it_ , how can you say you’re not into it? Like.. if you’re _sure_ you’re not into it?“

Asher scrunched up his brows, trying to come up with a good answer but his brain and his mouth apparently didn’t work together anymore. 

„Well, I don’t need to try it, I know I’m not into it.“

Connor let out a hoarse giggle. „I’ve heard that one before. Before, you know, they were moaning my name“, and winked with his left eyebrow at him. That _damn eyebrow_. 

Wait, since when did his classmate’s stupid eyebrow wiggle make him nervous? 

Asher begged his dazed brain and his rebellious mouth to bury the hatchet this time and asked, cautiously: „Wait, what are you implying here, Walsh?“

Now Connor was full-on-laughing at him, scooting closer.

„Relaaaaaax buddy, I’m just fucking with you! I know you hetero guys are usually so repressed, they’re already freaking out if a gay guy tells them that they _look good_. You are so insecure in your whole sexuality that you can’t even take a stupid joke or a compliment!“

„I’m not repressed“, Asher snapped immediately. He was still begging for his brain to come online again, but he had no such luck.

„Yeah?“, Connor teased him. That damn _smirk_. „Prove it.“

Asher had been wishing, praying for some common sense - more than often, lately. 

Maybe he should start going to church again, just to see if God would be answering his prayers then. 

„I“, he announced, trying to sound as confident as possible as you could do with the amount of alcoholic beverages already in his system, „wouldn’t even be afraid to _kiss you_ , Walsh. I would literally suck face with you on this fucking couch and I would still be straight as a pole. That proof enough for you?“

The wolfish grin on Connor’s face told him no. It wasn’t proof enough for him. 

„Prove it“, he repeated, scooting a little closer, their faces being only a few centimeters apart from each other now.

Relax, this is _just Connor_ , he thought to himself. 

His stupid, cocky, arrogant, wise-ass, know-it-all, _gruesomely handsome_ classmate.  
He was in so much trouble.

„You think I’m afraid to kiss you, Walsh? You really think I am too much of a pussy to do this?“, Asher whispered, trying to win a little time because he was desperately begging the heavens now for his brain to tell him no, this was an amazingly _BAD_ idea, even worse than the usual bad ideas he usually had, and that really said _a lot_ about how bad this idea really was, he should just laugh it off and they should go to sleep, _in separate beds, thank you, brain_ , sleep it off and wake up tomorrow with a terrible hangover, Michaela yelling at both of them to get the fuck up and absolutely zero memories of this conversation.

He was waiting for his brain to tell him that this _had to be_ one of Connor’s stupid mind games, his game of chicken he liked to play on unsuspecting victims, only to get something out of it to make fun of him for the next couple of months.

As it turned out, his brain seemed to have taken a vacation and his common sense was currently slurping Piña Coladas on the beach next to it. 

He closed the distance between them, quite clumsily but sure and pressed their lips together.

Connor, who apparently hadn’t seen that coming at all, judging by the small little „mmmph“ sound he released when their lips met, grabbed onto his shirt to steady himself, too perplex to do anything at all. 

Just when Asher thought that this was it, he had fucked up _completely_ now, Connor’s lips parted and he felt his tongue running over his bottom lip, begging for entrance. 

It was all too overwhelming, the other boy’s scratchy stubble against his face felt alien to him but not quite as unpleasant as he had thought, his lips tasting like cheap whiskey, something sweet and something else he could’t quite put a name on and the small hitched sounds he was making were so different from the soft little moans he was used to when he was kissing a girl. 

Asher _melted_ into it.

Their tongues met and he was kissing him back, kissing and licking and the only sound in the room were their wet kissing noises and Asher was still waiting for horrification to kick in, for them to break apart, awkwardly laughing, him being a little grossed out, but _none of that happened_.

He absolutely had no fucking idea that Connor could kiss like _that_. Admittedly, he had already suspected him of having a magic _penis_ , because of logistic reasons, of course, hello, all the information that thing had already got him to impress Annalise didn’t really leave any room for anyone to think otherwise. 

Apparently, he seemed to have a magic _tongue_ too and Asher had a sinking feeling that he could get addicted to the taste of it if he didn’t pull the ripcord now. 

Finally, they broke apart, heavily breathing and Connor, however, was still _smirking like that_. Seriously, why was he always smirking?

The only thing that served Asher a tiny little part of satisfaction was that the other man also seemed to be as out of breath as him, his pupils blown and his mouth shining wet wit spit. It really shouldn’t be _hot_ , but somehow the fucked-out look on his face made his handsome features even more attractive. 

He was in so much trouble.

„Fuck, dude“, Connor breathed, „that was.. ah.. unexpected.“  
That hoarse little giggle was back and he was still fucking _smirking_ and Asher‘s brain was about to implode.

He really couldn’t deal with a conversation with Connor about what they’d just done right now and he also really, really _didn’t want to_. He just wanted to - 

Connor’s hand came in contact with his sternum, pushing him until he was lying flat on his back and straddling him. 

Asher felt the other man’s weight on him, he was heavier than he had expected, and much more compact, much _firmer_ than a girl would be.

Not that this was weirding him out _at all_. He fucking _liked_ it.

„Still not afraid to kiss me?“, Connor rasped, raising up an eyebrow at him. Asher could tell that he was trying to play it cool, but his voice sounded a little strained and the tiny, breathy hitch at the end of the sentence told him otherwise. 

Fine, if this was Walsh’s stupid game, Asher was ready to _play it_. 

He captured Connor’s lips again with a quick motion, playfully biting at his lower lip and earned a small moan out of the other boy’s mouth. The sound filled him with a strange sense of pride, also the realization that Connor’s hips seemed to be pressed even closer now, with him obviously having trouble controlling himself. He could tell that he was trying to hold back but failing and, fuck, yes, _he_ did that. The repressed heterosexual dude who he had mocked with _being afraid to kiss him_ , blah blah blah, did that.

Apparently Asher’s heterosexuality seemed to have joined his brain’s sudden decision to go on vacation and was now slurping Piña Coladas on the beach as well.

He was fucking getting hard. 

He was getting hard while making out with _Connor Walsh_ and the whole thing was already a huge disaster, but none of them were really able to stop themselves anymore at this point and the kiss grew sloppier and deeper. 

He fisted one hand into Connor’s hair and _pulled_ , his stupid freaking hair that always seemed to look perfect, and Connor groaned loudly, unashamed. He rolled his hips against him again, in a vulgar, thrusting motion and Asher couldn’t help but making a strangled sound because this was so far from what he had expected, but _damn_. 

Suddenly, a phone’s blaring ringtone was ripping through the air, startling them and causing Connor to roll off him and to land on his ass on the floor, his pleasant weight gone within the blink of an eye. He was scrambling for his phone but groaned audibly when he recognized the caller ID blinking up at him. 

„What the fuck would Annalise want from us at 3 am on a Saturday night?“, Connor snapped, still out of breath. Asher, still frantically trying to put at least a few braincells back into place, couldn’t really come up with an answer.

The call ended as soon as it had come, Connor not even being able to answer it properly before Annalise had hung up again, the call already having switched to voicemail. 

A couple of seconds, there were only their labored breaths between them as they were both trying to slow down their heart rate.

Asher was just about to say something when the wise-ass spoke up, eyebrow already cocked at him again.

„ _Straight as a pole, huh_?“

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are deeply required!
> 
> but please be gentle, English is not my first language :)


End file.
